


Cocktail Hour

by rthstewart



Series: Golden Age Stories [6]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Golden Age (Narnia), Narnia Fic Exchange Treat 2019, Talking Animals, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: The Cheetah will see you now. The High King discovers to his chagrin that cocktail hour does not include chickens and lasts a lot longer than an hour.  Princess Even More Dim is avenged.





	Cocktail Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snacky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It's Hard Out There for a Princess (The Princess Peony Pavane)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601819) by [Snacky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky). 
  * Inspired by [Father Goose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134371) by [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart). 
  * Inspired by [By Royal Decree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/126363) by [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart). 

> A follow on to Fooh's discussion with Thomas the Goose in Father Goose. Part of rthverse. For Snacky who loves Fooh and always felt Princess Peony did not get her proper revenge for Edmund dumping juice on her in By Royal Decree.

First there had been the boat. Seven infernal days and nights in a boat. Peter knew it was the subject of some humours among the Narnians – "the High King really hates boats" – but by Tash's feathered balls, he really did. He'd not fallen overboard – he'd jumped, truly, he'd intended to go into the water when they anchored off Terebinthia. He had gotten a black eye when some rigging smacked him in the face and was fortunate he'd not broken his nose.

He had had to be patient with Susan who was constantly fretting about attracting the personal attentions of the Director of House Linch, one of the great, and fabulously wealthy Lone Islands banking houses. It was all needlessly pointless. Narnia had now retained House Linch as their personal financial advisor so it wasn't as if Rafe Linch could be rude or ignore her. And Lambert, Susan's Wolf Guard, not only approved of the Director (if he hadn't, there would have been bloodshed) but had also told his sister, over and over (and over and over) that one of the wealthiest men in the Known Lands, who Susan hopelessly admired, was as infatuated with her.

It was exhausting and Peter vowed that he would never, ever discount again Lucy's frequent complaints of having to endure conversation with his own would-be, usually disappointed, and ultimately always disappointing lovers. "As a subject of conversation, Peter, you are as dull as dry toast."

Once they finally docked in Redhaven, there had been not a moment's rest. Susan had accepted Rafe's offer that the Narnian delegation stay at Linch House, rather than the Narnian residence. He knew his sister had the ulterior motive of close proximity to the Director and so Peter had humoured her. Their Bankers were very keen to be the gracious and generous hosts. The accommodations were luxurious by the standards of their own seldom-used residence on the Island, the staff had hands, and the plumbing was a very pleasant change.

The downside was that the business never, ever stopped. It was a relentless, constant stream of meetings, conferences, receptions, briefings, seminars, sessions, "lunch and learns," and "salon dinners" with financiers and "KOLs," who Peter had embarrassingly learned were not, in fact, some family or country he had never heard of but "key opinion leaders."

Those excruciating events all paled though in comparison to this latest horror he was now enduring in the Linch House meeting room and gardens. He had assumed "Cocktail Hour" had had something to do with chickens. And that it would only be an hour.

"No," High King, his Guard, Fooh had whispered. "Cocktails are drinks with some food served on what are called 'small plates.'"

Which meant Peter was also starving as the small plates were very, very small, and he couldn't get more than a mouthful of anything without someone trying to talk to him about taxes, tariffs, and Narnian demand for imports of all sorts of products that required hands.

"It _is_ good for Narnia," Fooh said. The Cheetah was standing close, as a Guard should, and intently watching the room and the milling guests. Fooh's brother, Beehn, was circling the perimeter. It was a pattern he'd noticed his Guards adopting. Fooh would stay by his side, offering running, and, often alarmingly competent, commentary. Beehn would come over periodically to whisper in Fooh's ear and then return to his circling of the room. Fooh said Beehn was very good at repeating what he overheard and detecting "bad smells."

"And why are these hours of cocktails with no food good for Narnia?" Peter asked, handing off his "small plate" to a passing Linch server. He was enjoying what would surely be a very brief reprieve from yet another business interest or investor pressing him for something he only dimly comprehended.

"Linch is serving Narnian liquors and pouring it in Narnian-made mugs. It is to drum up interest in Narnian exports."

Peter stared at his Guard. Apart from words like "export" and "drum up" that seemed to have entered his Guard's vocabulary, there was the whole concept he was speaking of, and that Peter had not known of it. "How do you know that, Fooh?"

"I asked Goldman."

"Who is?"

"One of the Linch bankers. He was also very interested in Lightning. The junior bankers had heard about it."

Lightning was a potent Dwarf-made liquor. Peter happened to like it quite well. Most others found it induced blindness and behavior enthusiastically enjoyed but sometimes deeply regretted in the morning, if it was remembered at all.

"I don't think Lightning is appropriate for a Linch Cocktail Hour, Fooh."

"No. Maybe after, though." Fooh's ears perked up and he swished his tail. "Lord Mead is approaching, High King. He's very interested in how the new tax law might affect hemp support programs. And Lady Astrid wishes to the discuss the AMT."

The tax code supported hemp? What did that even mean? Through gritted teeth, Peter muttered, "AMT?"

"Alternative Minimum Tax."

_By Zardeenah's three tits…_

"Fooh, I don't understand any of…"

And then Lord Mead and Lady Astrid were upon him and Peter had to shift his adequate wine to the other hand because everyone here shook hands.

Three more came, rattling on about excise taxes, wool subsidies, and tariffs on Calormene imports. Peter was too engrossed in trying to absorb everything to more than barely register that, at some point, Fooh mewled loudly and Beehn promptly came to replace his brother. Beehn was fast, sharp-eared, and had very good instincts, but he did not have Fooh's remarkable intelligence. Beehn understood taxes on capital gains no more than Peter did.

A woman from Redhaven, or was it Narrowhaven? In a guild? Weaver? No, fishnets… was rattling on about taxing intermediate goods, leaving Peter feeling ever more disadvantaged and surely looking like a gape-mouthed fool. Fooh magically reappeared. A man, about his own age, with a broad, blonde Archen look, in impeccably fitted House of Linch banker green, was with his Guard. The Banker was carrying that thing Peter had come to dread known as a ledger and a long lead wrapped in string that the Bankers used for writing rather than the quill and ink normal, rational people used who did not spend their days poring over said ledgers.

_Hadn't he had enough of this already? Betrayed by his Guard?_

"Would you excuse us, Master Moirai?" Fooh interrupted. "The High King has business with his Banker."

_How did Fooh know the woman's name was Moirai?_

"Of course." The Master put her hand out, again, and Peter shook it. "It's a pleasure, Sir, and we of the Weavers Guild look forward to hearing more about how the Linch revisions to the tax code will help…" She backed away, still rambling something about avoiding double taxation.

"Fooh, I really am not in the…"

"High King, may I make known to you, Banker Goldman of House Linch?"

Banker Goldman stuck out his hand. "Sir, it's a pleasure. Fooh here says that you need someone to take notes?"

He pumped his hand once; Goldman's fingers had more inkstains than Edmund's. He then withdrew his hand and smartly opened up the ledger. "Don't worry about a thing, Sir. I'm sorry we didn't have someone covering you earlier. Everyone is very excited to meet you, Sir, and very interested in how House Linch will change the tax law, so they're lobbying you very hard."

Peter felt more comfortable admitting his ignorance to his advisor. "I beg your pardon, Banker Goldman, but _lobbying_?" The term seemed vaguely familiar. "What does that mean?"

"It's a Banker term," Fooh said. Again. Peter looked at him, askance. "Since Narnia is sponsoring House Linch to change the law, they are trying to influence you, so that you can tell House Linch what to do."

Not helpful if he didn't even understand what they were talking about but that's what Banker Goldman was for, he supposed.

The rest of the "hour" that was really more like two and felt like five went far more smoothly. So much so, that Peter found he could actually enjoy himself. Having a proper Narnian beer or three helped immeasurably and having Banker Goldman smiling, shaking hands, introducing him to people, and writing everything down was an enormous relief. Goldman was good company, with a very dry sense of humour and he and Fooh were whispering a great deal -- not many were comfortable getting that close to a Cheetah's jaws. The crowds had finally begun to thin and it was full dark in the brightly lit gardens outside.

His contentment ebbed when he spied Susan and the Director smiling and shaking hands with the departing guests. He knew the two of them had "supper" plans to which he would not invite himself.

Beehn appeared again, but his fur was standing up and his tail lashing. He whispered something to Fooh that caused both Guards to growl. Banker Goldman, to his credit, only looked a little alarmed.

"Is there something wrong?"

"High King, Lady Peony is coming," Fooh said. "She's married into House Riqueza."

"Oh," Banker Goldman said with a little harrumph. "_Her._"

"Do I know her, Fooh?"

"Even more dim!" Beehn said with another growl. "Fooh said I can't bite her."

_Even more dim…_

_Oh no._

Peter handed his beer to Banker Goldman. He needed his wits about him for this.

"High King Peter! What a pleasant surprise to see you! And at Linch House no less!"

She put out her hand, which was a little demeaning given that he knew she knew the appropriate courtesies awarded a monarch but Edmund had dumped a ewer of juice down the woman's front at breakfast when she'd last visited Cair Paravel. She was entitled some courtesy from him. 

He returned the handshake. "It is indeed a pleasure Lady Peony. Congratulations on your marriage to Lord Riqueza."

She was pretty, richly dressed, bejeweled, and obviously very successful in her pursuits.

"Thank you, High King. I am so glad I had the opportunity to thank you."

"Oh? And to what do we owe this gratitude?"

"Not gratitude, High King, so much as generosity. You see, last year, when I was negotiating the marital contract with my Lord, he was represented by House Linch, and I, by House Meryl. Imagine my surprise during the negotiations to see the King Edmund introduced to me as a mere clerk in the House of Linch, and under an assumed name!"

Banker Goldman began coughing.

"Indeed," Peter managed as blandly as he could.

"Well, I could see, obviously, that some scheme was afoot, requiring King Edmund to move secretly among the Bankers, which did of course come to pass at Conclave." She shuddered delicately. "Attempted murder. How ghastly."

"It was indeed fortunate that Our Brother and Sister were there to assure harm avoided and justice done." The courtesy was _sorely_ taxing.

"I felt very conflicted, of course, for I am certain the other bankers would have very much wished to pay their respects to Narnia, had they known King Edmund was there. Pretending to be a clerk."

_Such a conflict._

"I hope, Lady Peony, that you were able to resolve these competing demands upon your conscience."

She laughed. "I was, High King! The _very_ generous clothing and jewelry allowance that Linch convinced my Lord to provide for me in the marital contract made me quite forget other matters and went a long way to assuaging my guilt." She paused. "I was so pleased to provide my continuing discretion in service to Narnia's interests."

Peter managed to not grit his teeth. "Thank you, Lady, for your kindness and discretion. We wish you all the very best."

"No, High King. _Thank you._" She shook his hand and flitted off, glittering like a gem in firelight.

Beehn growled. "Can I bite her now?"

"Banker Goldman, just how much is Narnia paying for Lady Peony's clothing allowance?"

Banker Goldman shifted from foot to foot and looked up at the ceiling. "Uhmmm..."

"That much?"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Peter managed his courtesies, thanking Director Linch for a wonderful, outstanding event. He gave Susan a kiss on the cheek and admonished her to have a lovely evening and he would see her in the morning. And then, _finally_, he left.

His room was lovely, with a beautiful aspect of the harbor. The bed was comfortable. Peter dropped into it, pulled his boots off, threw them across the room, and closed his eyes.

"Beehn, take the outside please," Fooh said.

"You should have let me bite her."

He heard the clang of the door actually closing shut and the soft _click click_ of Cheetah claws on tile. A domed, furred head pushed itself under his dangling hand. Peter scratched Fooh's head and the Cheetah purred.

"Thank you, Fooh. You did very well tonight."

_Better than I did._

"You are a great King to all of Narnia."

"Did I say I wasn't?"

"You're thinking it," Fooh replied.

"And I'm thinking, my Guard, that you are learning a great deal on this trip of benefit to me and Narnia."

The Cheetah's purrs intensified.

"I am learning," Fooh replied. "I'm getting much better about seeing what you need."

Peter scoffed, feeling brittle, a little abused, and rather sorry for himself. "And what do I need, my Guard?"

"Being with a man or a woman who just likes you and isn't trying to take from you. Something to eat that isn't on a small plate. And Lightning."

He'd not recognized any of those needs until Fooh had spoken them. "And where, Master Fooh, would I find those things?"

"If you let Beehn growl at the Linch House cooks, they will make food for you."

"And the others?"

"There's a cask of Lightning in the Linch House game room. Banker Goldman is there, too."

Peter flailed up out of the bed and stared at his Guard. "Fooh…"

The Cheetah blinked at him and swished his tail. "I think we should go, High King. I think I would learn a lot."


End file.
